End of the Line
by gossamerbubble
Summary: What would have happened if Norman and Neil never met?


The rock clacked across the cement as Norman's foot feebly kicked it along. He barely had the energy to kick a pebble anymore. He could see the spirits dancing around him, asking him what was wrong, the animal ghosts nipping at his feet lovingly, but he turned away. There was nothing they could do anymore. The only emotions he had left were self-hatred and an anger that stirred restlessly as he carried on. The sidewalk seemed to stretch for miles ahead of him, taunting him, dangling his prize at the very end of the race.  
As he walked through his town, the one he had lived in all of his 13 years, the people turned from him. Some even crossed to the other side of the street, or scurried back into their shops, afraid he would make eye contact. He was the pariah, making his last shamed walk through a town he used to love. As he passed by a few of the shops in the center of town, he could feel the rope in his sweater pocket churning against his stomach, making it ache slightly with the worry of what was to come, but he had decided. There was nothing that could stop him now.

The anger in his belly burned with a deep set satisfaction as he reflected on the people around him. His father wouldn't have to deal with his abnormal bullshit. His mother would learn to get on with her life, maybe even be happy. His sister wouldn't have to deal with her weirdo idiot brother anymore. He didn't have any friends, and the bullies at school would need to find someone else to torture. The stone he had been kicking through town plunked into the dirt with a certain finality as he reached the end of the sidewalk leading up to the graveyard. He began on the long trek up the hill, towards the graves and the surrounding forest. His pace picked up a little, as salvation was finally close at hand. He knew exactly where to do it too. There was a large old tree in the middle of the forest. He could hear a voice calling to him sometimes when he was there, and he could feel a soft, sleepy, serene, but so sad, so hurt presence. He wished it would come talk to him, but it was too late to think of such things now.

He wandered through the forest, dodging branches, leaves, overgrown roots, and the occasional random headstone until, after what seemed like forever, he reached the little grove that held the giant old tree. The trees seemed to close in around him, and a static hung in the still air. He exhaled a breath of relief. It was there. It wasn't just a dream. There was an escape.

His hands shook as he reached into his pocket for the rope. He fondled it lovingly, feeling each strand of the braid. It wasn't long, he was only a boy after all, not even fully through puberty, his growth spurt still a ways off. He smiled wryly at this morbid thought. What would his mother say if he had told her the things going on in his head? He could only imagine now. He looked up at the tree for a moment, then laid his head against it, caressing it with his free hand. Such a strong old tree. He wished with all his heart for a moment that he could have the strength to resist the rope's siren call, but it was gone in a flash and his dark determination set in once more. He lurched up onto the tree, hands scrabbling for a nook in the bark, feet scraping against the trunk for a foothold. He slipped and clawed and struggled and fell, the tree seeming to shy away, knowing what he was about to do. He could hear a whisper and felt a slight pressure on his shoulder, but his mind was so far gone with the thought of escape that he paid it no mind.

He finally reached the branch he had been aiming for and carefully crawled out onto the middle of it. He sat up and grasped the rope in his pocket. He looked at it. It was strange seeing it. He had given it so much power in his mind, a power of protection, of wrath, and of strength. But all it really was, was a flaccid little braid of polymer strands. He shook off the thought and tied it to the branch. The noose part had been tied long ago, when he was first beginning to contemplate the idea, he thought it was a bit romantic that he was using this particular rope with this particular knot. He tugged on it to make sure his handiwork was acceptable and breathed in the fresh air and grass around him. He could see the silhouettes of birds flying in the distance against the soft rays of the sun. He wondered if he would ever see them again.

He looked back to the issue at hand and tightened the noose around his neck, only cutting off his breathing for a short moment. His thoughts started racing, he began to sweat, and looked around, trying to calm himself down. He saw his own hand, a bruise covering the top of it, where he had attempted to defend himself from a bully's swing. It plucked a string in his memory and he began remembering an insignificant day from some insignificant month in his insignificant little life. It had been in his room.  
He had heard her pounding footsteps and angry pouts long before she had actually made it up the stares.  
"Norman! Norman you dork! Why didn't you wait for me! Why did you just run off like that-"  
The torrent of interrogations ceased as her gaze focused on him. His eyes were red and puffy, his cheeks rubbed raw from trying to wipe the tears away.  
"What?" he said, the sobs making him hitch on the single syllable, his tone hopeless and flat.  
"I just….I just wanted to see if you were okay. Did those jerks hurt you?"  
He looked at her, revealing a swelling purple eye and a bruise that covered the entire right side of his body. She sat down next to him and laid a hand on his shoulder gently.  
"Norman, you know if this happens, you can come to me, right? I'll kick their ugly butts if I ever see you this hurt again, you got me?"  
He gave her a little smile and she wrapped him up in a hug.  
"I'm the only one who gets to mess with you, dork" Her voice hitched on the last word and she held onto him longer than she ever had before. She let go and sniffed, wiping something from her eye. She gave his hand a squeeze, a little smile and then walked out the door.

A panic swept over him and he realized that he didn't want to do this. He could find a way to live with things, they would get better eventually. He did have people that loved him and would miss him when he was gone, no matter how much they didn't show it on a daily basis. He clawed at the rope around his neck, hyperventilating. He couldn't do this to them, to her, his big sister, he just-

His grip on the branch slipped. He slid to the side. His fingers tore at the bark trying to get a grip, but it was too late. His heart beat almost out of his chest as he freefell into the abyss. He heard a snap, and everything went black.

"Norman! Norman! Get out here NOW!" Courtney shrieked into the surrounding forest. She had been looking for him for hours now, and it was getting dark. He hadn't come home from school that day and their parents normally weren't worried about trivial things like him going to the library or to visit the cemetery, but today had been….different. Something odd and uncomfortable hung over them and they knew something was wrong. So her parents went driving around the town, anxiously looking for him, while she got stuck with rooting through dirt and corpses. She had been looking behind the graves, calling his name over and over when she spotted a footprint on a small, untrodden path. Her heart jumped a little at the thought of her finding her brother and this all being over. She scurried over to the path and started the long journey down it, branches whipping her in the face, leaves brushing her exposed belly and neck, roots seeming to grab at her ankles as she treaded by. Her cries for Norman grew weaker as the sun's rays began to soften and the shadows of the gnarled branches closed in on her. She pulled out her flashlight and swung it out in front of her to see that she had stumbled upon a clearing with one massive old tree in the center.

The air was different here. It was still, pressing, cold and thick, like she wasn't breathing air at all. She coughed and crept towards the tree, flashlight shaking in her hand. "N….Norman?" She called softly, eyes darting around. Some long forgotten part of her brain was screaming at her to run, that there was danger, but she knew he was here. She reached the tree and placed her hand on it, slowly and shakily walking around the perimeter of its roots. Something hit her forehead and she tried to brush it off but instead of it being a leaf or a twig, she felt rubber. She yanked her hand away and jumped back. Her flashlight illuminated her brother's red Chuck Taylors. Then his dirty blue jeans. His red hoodie. And then, with the creak of the branch and the lolling of his broken neck, the flashlight illuminated his blue eyes, covered by a film, staring at her from behind slack lids. Her heart began to race. Blood pounded her brain against her skull. She let out a guttural cry as she ran, faster than she ever had before, away from him. That couldn't be him. Not her baby brother Norman. No. Not him. Anyone but him. The trees seemed to close in behind her as she tore her way through the forest.

There was a stagnancy to the air when Norman woke. He rustled about, wanting to sleep more, but he knew he should wake, it was getting dark and his parents would be worried. He moved slowly, opening his eyes little by little, attempting to take in his surroundings with dull, blurry vision. Everything seemed different somehow. There was not breeze, no scent of fresh forest or grass, just the stagnant air that clogged his lungs. He rose slowly, and there was a snap, a crick in his neck. He cradled it with his hand, wondering if he just slept on the ground wrong again.  
He looked around. Everything seemed darker, duller, deader. Even the grand old tree seemed to have lost some of its luster. His eyes traveled up its hulking trunk, but they caught sight of another shape. It was a strange one, almost human in appearance as it hung from the tree, like a Halloween decoration. He squinted, attempting to focus in on it. It looked strangely familiar somehow. The red chuck taylors. The dirty jeans. The hoodie….His thought trailed off as his eyes widened with horror.

"no…no….n..no this…this can't be. This can't be happening…NO NO NO NOOOOO NO THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING" He screamed into the abyss. He curled in on himself, bashing his head with his fists, crying from dry eyes. "No…not dead….not me…how…how could they let this happen…." His head shot up from its place against his knees and a fiery explosion rose up from his belly. "How….HOW COULD THEY LET THIS HAPPEN" He screamed as he rose into the air, the ground suddenly blazing around him in a fiery pit. He had razed hell in his fury.

They were so absorbed in their own idiotic lives that they didn't see? They didn't see that Norman was falling? That he was grasping for ANYTHING. LITERALLY ANYTHING THAT WOULD STOP HIM. THEY LET HIS NECK SNAP AS HE FELL FROM THAT TREE. THEY ALLOWED THIS TO HAPPEN. THEY MADE THIS HAPPEN. HOW COULD THEY DO THIS. THEIR SON, THEIR BROTHER, THEIR STUDENT, THEIR CLASSMATE. HE WAS DEAD BECAUSE OF THEM. He sank to the floor, the fury subsiding into a pounding ache. The fire turned to smoke and his form shook. He cried smoke. It rose from his mouth, his eyes, his nose, his hands. It rose from whatever was left of his very being.


End file.
